


Black Velvet

by Neonbat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Advanced prosthetics, Amputee Dean Winchester, Bossy Castiel, Gay Bar, Low key comfort fic, M/M, Power Bottom Castiel, Promiscuous Castiel, Self Confidence Issues, Virgin Dean Winchester, Vulnerable Dean Winchester, slightly futuristic au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 11:30:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14568099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonbat/pseuds/Neonbat
Summary: Castiel wouldn’t call himself a ‘party boy’. Not like his brother anyway. He knew what he wanted, and that was good drinks and good times. He hit it and quit it, not wanting to entangle himself in anything messy.In the middle of a subpar evening out, he meets a certain Dean Winchester. Awkward, new to the scene, and just an injection of new that Castiel finds entrancing. Castiel never expected his night would make him face not only someone else’s most deep-seeded insecurities and vulnerabilities but his own as well.





	Black Velvet

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! I had a lot of fun writing flipped tropes for this fest..mainly because I love writing power bottom Cas, haha. 
> 
> Also check out the amazing artist who did the STUNNING work for this, starmouse123 (tumblr). Seriously. In awe. Holy crap. 
> 
> I had these three songs as a mood board for writing this fic if you want to check them out: 
> 
> Night Club - "Show It 2 Me"  
> Adam Lambert: Broken English  
> Massive Attack - Angel

 

Maybe going out tonight hadn’t been the best idea, he’d concede that to his brother’s texts.

[You’re getting out of that party phase. Welcome to adult hood] Or at least that’s what Castiel thought the text said through Gabriel’s chatspeak. He snorted, shoving the phone back into his pocket to down his fourth shot. He was only twenty-five, that wasn’t old enough to ‘get out of his party phase’. Was it?

Gabriel said he was suffering from a mean case of ‘Preacher’s kid syndrome’, which was laughable since it was their eldest brother that had raised them all when their mother died; not to mention Michael was a cop, not a preacher (but that was almost as bad). Their father had ditched them just after Castiel was born.

Michael had always been deeply religious and had poured himself into raising his siblings the way he saw fit. Not that the second oldest, Lucifer, had listened much. There had been barely a year separating Michael and Lucifer, and Lucifer had already started down a dark path.

Castiel might enjoy a good time, but none of them was the rotten egg Lucifer turned out to be. He remembered going to the trail and sitting next to the rest of the Novak line listening to a judge drawl off Lucifer’s list of felonies. He’d tuned out somewhere after an involuntary manslaughter charge, unable to listen to anymore and keep his composure.

 “Great.” He grumbled now that his mind was down in the pits. He flagged down the bartender for another pour and turned back towards the crowd. The bass that was usually a comforting pulse against his chest was churning his insides, and the song choice was grating. He’d been hit on by a handful of guys so far, but no one he felt the immediate need to jump into a taxi with.

Sighing, Castiel brought his shot up to his lips, hoping that this one would temper his fast souring mood.

“Hey, can I get- uh, shit I don’t know. Maybe a beer?” A voice to his left caught his attention. Who ordered a _beer_ in a gay club? He looked over, eyeing the nervous man leaning against the bar.

He was cute. _Real_ cute. Broad shouldered, thick set with muscle all in the right places and a backside that was sorely in need of better fitting jeans than simple boot-cuts from Walmart. His short hair was pushed back from his face but not enough for Castiel to think the look had been deliberate, he’d just lucked out. Overall, Castiel would have walked past a man like that on the street and did a once-over but dismissed him as straight. He’d learned in college that straight-chasing was a recipe for disaster, even if Balthazar swore everyone was at least a little bi.

“You should get a Black Velvet if you’re a beer drinker,” Castiel leaned in, not wanting to scream over the music any more than he had to.

The man jumped, not having expected anyone to talk to him even though he was at the bar, prime sniping territory for anyone looking for a hookup. His eyes swiveled to look at Castiel, and Castiel was immensely glad he’d leaned in to speak, letting him see the verdant green of the man’s eyes. “Wh— excuse me?” Green-eyes leaned a little towards him, letting Castiel catch a whiff of his cologne. Okay, So maybe the guy _had_ put in a little effort for the venue.

“A Black Velvet, it’s Guinness and champagne.  Strange combination I know, but trust me. You have to have a little razzle-dazzle right?” Castiel gestured vaguely to the club floor, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Huh, really?” The man considered this, and a small grin curled his criminally full lips. “Yeah alright, let’s try it.” He slapped a hand down over on the counter and craned a bit to get the bartender’s attention to change his order.

Castiel had figured that would be the end of the interaction and went back to his shots. He was getting close to his limit for shots allotted, so he figured he needed to taper off into something less likely to make him puke into his shoes. He turned to order a Cloudy Sky, hoping the ginger ale in the cocktail would mellow out the mild turbulence brewing from his rapid consumption of pure vodka.

“ _Holy shit!”_ Now it was his turn to startle. Castiel looked back at the man to his left, who by this point had taken the first sip of his ‘cocktail’. Green-eyes had a vaguely foamy ring clinging to his upper lip from the froth of the drink, all stupid grins, and bright eyes.

Castiel snickered, reaching up to cover his mouth just in case Green-eyes took offense to him laughing at his beer-mustache. “Like it?”  
  
“Yeah actually! Color me surprised. I’m not a big champagne guy, it always felt kinda—I dunno, fruity or something—Shit, not that there is anything wrong with that. I mean, obviously, I’m here and everything.” Green-eyes rambled, a touch of color flooding his freckled cheeks. “I uh, I’m Dean. Thanks for the rec.” God help him, ‘Dean’ stuck his hand out for a shake and everything.

Castiel’s smile softened, reaching to grasp Dean’s broad hand with his own gently. “Castiel.” The incredulous brow quirked on Dean’s face was expected. ”I know. Religious parents.” That seemed to click with something in Dean’s mind, and he nodded in understanding. Why his parents didn’t put his middle name, Jimmy, as his first instead he forever lamented. All the children were named after Angels, and some had lucked out more than others. Balthazar was by far the most unfortunate. Lucifer had been set up to fail if you asked him.

“Huh, mind if I call you Cas? Cause I ain’t gunna lie man that’s a hard one.” Dean grinned sheepishly after he took another sip of his drink.

“I guess that depends on if you plan to talk to me all night.” He hadn’t meant to turn on what his best friend called his ‘panty-dropping voice’, but he had a weakness for the all-American types like Dean. Megan bemoaned his status as _very_ gay whenever she heard ‘the voice’ out of him. She described it as husky with a touch of low vibrations that hit all the good spots. There was a more graphic continuation of the description that made Castiel shudder in revulsion and banish his bisexual best friend back to her girlfriend.

Dean’s cheeks darkened a little deeper, and his eyes widened as he floundered for a proper response. “Um, y-yeah, that would be… good, yeah.” He finished lamely, shyly ducking when he received a new chuckle out of Castiel.  
  
“Do you come here a lot?” Dean was trying very hard not to look as uncomfortable as he was.

“Sometimes. I switch between here and Purgatory.” Castiel shrugged lightly, “That place has gotten a little—leather-daddy-y lately. Which is fine, but I don’t want a stubble-rash when I’m trying to dance.”

Dean looked a little lost, “I…have no idea what a leather-daddy is.” He confessed.

Castiel hadn’t meant to let the little bark of laughter fully bubble up, but the vodka was making it hard to keep his censor. “Really? You must be pretty fresh Out.”

Dean shifted on his feet, turning his glass lightly in his hands. ”Kinda?” He replied with a small voice.

Oh, damn. Castiel hadn’t meant to be an ass about that. Dean couldn’t be more than a year or two younger than he was, so it wasn’t a huge leap to think he could be fresh out of the closet. People realized things at all moments of life after all.

 

 

 

 “That’s great then,” Castiel assured, gesturing towards the stairs that lead to the upper level where the lounge was. “Want to go up there? It’s quieter.”  It was a leap. He didn’t know if Dean even wanted to get to know him more, or what he was after, but Castiel was compelled to talk to the other at least a little more. Dean was a breath of fresh air amid the ravenous tide that usually populated the club. Admittedly, part of Castiel was slightly worried Dean would get eaten alive as soon as the others got wind of fresh meat chumming the waters.

“Really? Yeah, sounds good.” Dean’s smile returned, and with it came a little flip in Castiel’s stomach. Dean had a grin that could melt glaciers.

 Castiel pushed off the counter and motioned Dean to follow, lagging to the side once they got to the stairs, so Dean could go first. Despite that, Dean hesitated, casting an edgy glance in his direction before he took to the stairs. Alright. Castiel found that a little odd, but his confusion was short lived when he started up behind Dean only to find the man’s pace was a little slower than expected.

He had a keen eye; it’s what led him into graphic design despite what his siblings considered a God-given gift at the piano. The way Dean walked up the stairs, leaning more into his left hip with his right leg never fully bending struck him. He’d seen similar walks before. The rise of advanced prosthetics was no secret. The past decade had seen a huge jump in medical science, some of which he’d benefitted from himself. He’d seen a handful of people around campus before he’d graduated with new models, sleek and beautiful to look at. But, he’d also seen his fair share of older models, ones that hadn’t gotten all the kinks worked out of them and still moved a bit artificially. He wasn’t a betting man, but he’d hazard a guess Dean had some old model on his right leg.

 They walked towards a free couch towards the back, and Castiel was careful not to let his eyes linger during his quiet thought. The last thing he wanted Dean to think was that he was ogling him. He didn’t care if Dean had a prosthetic or not if anything he found the rise in science to be a fascinating medical marvel. Without that science, his elder brother Michael would be without an eye from a bad run-in with a drug dealer a year fresh on the force.

“This your first time here?” Castiel started as he sat down, hand loosely gripping his pale red drink over his knee.

Dean settled on the couch, shifting a bit under the guise of getting comfortable. “Yeah, that obvious?” His grin turned a hair self-conscious.

“Pretty.” Castiel teased with a soft smile. “Student?”

“Yep, mechanical engineering.” Color Castiel impressed, not only was Dean good looking but smart as well.

They fell into an easy conversation.  Dean was a senior, attending school with hefty scholarships and the generosity of a family friend that Dean swore was like a father to him. Castiel learned in short order that Dean had a younger brother about to start school as well, which came as a relief to him because according to Dean the kid had a pretty shaky few years there where he’d fallen into a bad crowd.

Dean didn’t seem to have a problem answering whatever was asked and expanding even when he wasn’t prompted. He was eager to talk, adorably so. After thirty minutes Castiel found himself talking back, pulling stuff out of him that he rarely told his friends let alone someone he’d just met.

“Piano? Wow, that’s really cool! I play guitar here and there but seriously, what college bro doesn’t?” Dean chuckled, at the bottom of his second glass after Castiel had ducked down to get them a refill. He hadn’t wanted to make Dean get up with him, and he only hoped he’d done it in a manner that wasn’t immediately obvious why.

Barely anyone knew Castiel could play proficiently. It had taken Meg til junior year to hear him play, and he’d told Dean an hour after meeting him. That… made him uncomfortable to think about now that he reflected on it. Maybe that’s why his brain swung a hard left with what came out of his mouth next.

“Want to get out of here?” That had been tonight’s goal after all. An itch that needed scratching after a hard week. Gabriel was getting married, and that would mean the remains of the Novak and Shurley clan would be coming together, one trying to ignore Chuck abandoning his kids and no one bothering to help raise his young children, and the other side cooing over how the children reminded everyone of their dead mother.

For a moment, Castiel was sure he’d done something incredibly stupid. He didn’t know why, but he cared if Dean took offense to the offer and decided to end the conversation then and there.  
  
“I um… that would be—good. Your place or mine?” Dean’s cheeks had gone tomato-bright, but to his credit, he looked determined.

“I live on Fifth.”

“Hmm, me then. I live on Cherrywood.” Dean slammed the last quarter of his drink and stood, tongue flicking out to clear away the lingering liquor clinging to his lips. The little action had Castiel’s libido perked, and he finished off the little bit of his drink with a quick gulp.

Since neither one of them drove a taxi was decided. Castiel settled his hand on Dean’s left knee on the drive, delighting in the way Dean’s breath quietly hitched when he gently squeezed. By the time they’d arrived at Dean’s apartment building his hand had crept up to Dean’s upper-thigh, and the younger man was clearly struggling not to focus on it. It was oddly endearing. Receptive. That was a definite plus in Castiel’s book. He enjoyed it when his partners liked getting riled up and loud.

The elevator door closed behind them, and their mouths crashed together, the quiet tension of the taxi ride igniting. Dean was all raw hunger, unable to decide if he wanted to slowly explore his mouth or devour him. Castiel reached up, fisting his hand into Dean’s short crop of hair to tug his head back, forcing Dean to back off just slightly so Castiel could put them in proper rhythm.

Castiel’s tongue dipped into Dean’s mouth, sliding deep and sure to taste the heady, nearly bitter lingering taste of Guinness and champagne. Dean groaned, shuddering in his grip and pressing their bodies close. Dean was already hard and straining against his jeans from the kiss. _Very_ receptive then.

The door dinged, and they stumbled out. Castiel nudged Dean out of his hold and swatted him on his ass to get him in gear, chuckling low at the small squawk of indignance and the soft pout that settled on Dean’s spit-slick lips.

The apartment was clean, shockingly so considering their age bracket. Castiel would admit that sometimes he got lax on his chores. Clothes piled up, and paper plates used in favor of the porcelain plate set Anna had gifted him for graduation when he moved out of the dorms. But Dean’s apartment was nearly spotless, save for a bag of chips on his coffee table and a half-finished coke next to a game visor.

Dean closed and locked the door behind them, and Castiel barely let him deposit his keys in the clay bowl next to the door before he pulled the younger man against him. Castiel’s hands settled on his hips, thumbs tracing small circles against his sides that had Dean squirming with a small whine. “Ticklish too?” He hummed against the back of Dean’s neck, lips parting to gently nip at the smooth skin, drawing another gasp from his sensitive partner.

“V-very.” Dean breathed, pushing his backside into Castiel’s hold, hands reaching back to grasp at Castiel’s sides.

“Bedroom?” He bit again, a little harder.

Dean shivered, lips parting with a small groan. "Back right.” He weakly motioned. There were three doors in the open concept apartment, one on the left off the kitchen, and the other two on the right.

Castiel stepped away with a wicked grin, skirting around Dean to take a few steps towards the door before he turned. With practiced ease he peeled himself out of his tight-fitting grey top, smiling in satisfaction at the open-eyed stare that ate up every inch of his bared olive skin. The shirt dropped carelessly on the floor, and his hands fell on his jeans, popping the button but going no further. Without another word he turned and walked into Dean’s bedroom.

By the time Dean stumbled after him, he’d stretched himself out on Dean’s dark navy comforter, zipper undone and revealing a swath of red boxer-briefs underneath.

A loud nonsense sound from the corner of the room spooked them both, and Castiel leaned up to look towards the desk. Dean’s laptop was on, bright colors and figures milling around on the screen with small text boxes above the figures.

“Sh-shit! Sorry!” Dean dashed over, slamming the laptop shut.

“Was that World of Warcraft?” Castiel snickered low, head tilting. Gabriel had loved to play online games when he was younger before his job as a teacher began to eat up all his time.

Dean’s blush returned full force as he moved closer to the bed, fingers fussing with the hem of his shirt. “Yeah, so?” He huffed, daring Castiel to say something disparaging.

Castiel sat up, hands reaching out to run down the enticing expanse of Dean’s chest and abs, woefully still clothed. “It’s cute.” He assured, fingers startling to slip under the other’s shirt.

Dean froze, and Castiel backed off instantly, confusion blossoming over his face. “Dean?”

The younger man shifted, chewing the inside of his lip. “I…I haven’t done anything like this before.” Oh. That was obvious.

“Picking up guys at clubs?” Castiel smiled faintly, “I kind of got that.”

“No—I, well yeah, but not just that.” Dean sighed softly, looking like he was resigning himself to something. The look tugged at Castiel’s heartstrings.  “I, hell, just—“ Dean reached down to tear off his shirt, chucking it to the side with a small frown pulling his lips.

Dean was just as muscular and inviting as Castiel had fantasized, but there were a few additions he hadn’t expected. There were scars here and there, concentrated the closer his eyes crept to Dean’s right hip. The scars disappearing into Dean’s jeans looked tight like they’d never fully eased years after recovery.

“Dean- “

“Just wait. Just—“ Dean heaved a heavy sigh, starting to unbuckle his jeans. Castiel already had an idea what to expect. He wanted to reach out and tell Dean this wasn’t necessary, but something in Dean’s expression told him just to sit back and let him do this.

Dean’s jeans hit the floor, leaving him in the black boxers. The dull metal surface of his faintly silver and grey right leg was stark against the black cloth. Despite knowing what to expect, Castiel felt his eyes drawn to the prosthetic, taking in the design of the older model series. They were still a marvel of technology, even with the slightly clunky design and the knee joint looking bulky and heavy compared to the Model-S series. It was worn, most likely a second-hand since Dean’s age still put him in the ‘maybe still growing’ category; New models were expensive and hardly covered by most insurances. Only Michael’s job in the police had snagged him a new series eye that he got continually updated with every major doctor’s visit.

The fusion between Dean’s body and the prosthetic looked vaguely uncomfortable due to how high up the model had to go. Castiel figured Dean had to of been amputated at the hip joint for it to reach that high.

“Car accident,” Dean mumbled shortly, fully expecting Castiel to draw back in revulsion. He had to wonder how many people had done that to Dean for him to expect it now.

Castiel eased back forward, slowly extending a hand to smooth up the artificially warm surface of the crafted leg. He’d heard this series ran a little hot or cold, never quite matching the body’s natural temperature perfectly. Dean’s ran a little warm. 

Dean tensed under the touch, chewing his lip hard enough that Castiel worried he’d puncture the pink flesh with his canine. Castiel wasn’t used to situations like these. He was used to stumbling into some one’s apartment, condo, or, hell, a car, having their fun and parting ways. Relationships had never been easy for him, so he’d stopped trying. Fun was all he was interested in for now.

Or at least, that’s what he thought. But ‘fun’ or not, Castiel couldn’t bring himself to just push away, gather his shirt and leave. He wasn’t a psychologist, but he imagined that would be another devastating blow to a man that for some reason had decided to trust him with this.  
  
“Dean… It’s fine. Not—“ Fuck now he was the one stumbling over his words, worried that he would say the wrong thing. “—I’m not going to leave unless you want me to.” Castiel finished, looking up the length of Dean’s strong body with what he hoped were sincere eyes. “This isn’t a ‘deal breaker’ or whatever you’re thinking. And you should probably punch whoever said it was.” That got a small huff of a chuckle out of Dean, and he’d take that as a win.

“Here,” Castiel sat back, stretching his right arm above his head to make the scar on his left side stand out more. “Even I have an artificial kidney.” He pressed over the scar, feeling the vaguely hard surface of the port lingering just underneath his skin. Every few years he needed to get it scanned and tested, but so far, he’d been able to keep the same model since he was a teenager. He’d never played contact sports again after that unfortunate incident. “I know it’s not the same, but it’s a part of me.”

He watched as Dean’s eyes trailed to the scar, brows pulled in quiet concentration. His tongue peeked out to wet his lips, alluring despite the charged atmosphere. “Really?” Dean didn’t trust him at the moment, and that was alright.

Castiel’s leaned back to stretch out his legs to pull Dean forward by wrapping them loosely around his hips. “Really. I mean it, Dean. You’re stunning; you know that. Just because you have a prosthetic doesn’t detract from that. Its just another part of your body.” Castiel drew him in a little more until Dean had to lean onto the bed to keep from tipping over. “A part of your _exceptionally_ attractive body.” He grinned, stretching himself back on the bed to let Dean’s focus return to his body.

Dean laughed, ducking his head with a shy smile. That was more he liked it. Dean had a face meant for easy smiles and boyish twinkles, not self-conscious turbulence.

“Thanks. But that’s, not exactly all of it.” Dean flinched, cheeks flooding pink for seemingly no reason.

Castiel leaned up on his elbows. Not all of it? How could that not be all of it? “Meaning?”

Dean groaned and shifted from between Castiel’s legs to fall onto the bed next to him, directing his eyes apologetically towards him. ”Jesus, I know this isn’t what you were expecting or anything but... Fuck, I was really tired of getting in my own head and just—“ Dean turned his face into the curve of his arms a moment to regroup, “Okay, fuck it. All in.” He mumbled into the bedspread before turning back to him.

“I haven’t exactly slept with a guy before.” That wasn’t that much of a surprise really, “Or… much of anyone.” Now that got Castiel’s attention. His surprise must have been evident on his face considering the shade of crimson Dean’s freckled cheeks adopted. “Shit, I know, okay?”

He had to recover from the shell-shock before Dean retreated again. Logically, it wasn’t _that_ weird. There were more male virgins than most would ever admit to, but one that looked like Dean was practically a holy grail. Yet, when he considered how nervous Dean had been about his leg, the lurid allure was promptly doused with cold water. Dean was too self-conscious to engage with anyone, and for some reason, he’d chosen him.

A giddy nervousness settled in Castiel’s stomach. He’d slept with virgins before, admittedly, years back when he was a freshman and getting used to sex himself, but he could remember how his first time had been. He wouldn’t wish that level of awkward on anyone. Sleeping with Hannah had been the dawning realization that he was _quite_ gay and had left the both avoiding each other’s eyes the rest of the year.

“I get it.” Castiel nodded slowly, reaching out to dust his fingers down back. “It must have been difficult.” That was all he’d say, careful to pick around the potential minefield.

To his surprise, Dean chortled with a little more earnesty. “Are you serious? I just drop all of this on you, and it’s fine? I didn’t mean to drag you into my damage, man.”

Castiel’s brows furrowed, and he sat up, reaching out to nudge Dean over onto his back. He moved to straddle Dean’s waist, content with the surprised gasp he pulled from below. “I don’t mind, Dean. I’ll admit, I’m a little nervous now because it’s not every day I get faced with a virgin quite—“ He looked down, eyes racking over Dean who was staring raptly up at him. "—Like you. I hope I can deliver a memorable experience… that is if you still want me to. Because I am more than willing to continue.”

A sharp breath puffed out of Dean, and he wiggled underneath. Castiel thought briefly that maybe Dean had decided he didn’t want this, but the warm nudge against his backside told him otherwise. He had a sneaking suspicion he could probably talk Dean to completion if he worked at it with how eager Dean was.

“Ye-yeah. If you’ll put up with me, I want to. Fuck, I _really_ want to.” Dean swallowed, but the self-depreciating was going to have to go.

Castiel reached down, snagging Dean’s jaw with his hand as he leaned to place a bruising kiss on the younger’s mouth. “If I hear you say something else bad about yourself, I’ll stop and leave you with this.” He reached back with his free hand to smooth over the swell of Dean’s crotch.

Eyes wide and slightly glazed, Dean nodded eagerly, hips moving in vain underneath him when his hand withdrew. “Good. Now. Lube, condoms?” Castiel prompted, smiling softly that even those two simple words made Dean perk.

“Nightstand—shit, I don’t think I have—“Dean stammered when Castiel got up to retrieve the half a bottle of lube from the nightstand. He hadn’t expected Dean to have a condom, but luckily Castiel had started the night with this in mind.

“I’ve got one.” Castiel reached into his back pocket to withdraw a foil, keeping the edge of the wrapper between his teeth as he tossed the bottle onto the bed next to Dean. With his hands freed, Castiel stood at the edge of the bed, slowly tugging down his tight dark denims and underwear in one agonizing slow motion. He could hear Dean’s heavy exhale when the man’s eyes openly fell on his half-hard cock, lust springing to Dean’s eyes fast enough to drown out the doubt and jitters. There was an eagerness there that was flattering and exhilarating. It had been ages since someone had looked at him like that. Like Dean wanted to devour every inch of him but was too scared to touch. Like he was a fucking work of art.

Castiel reached out, fingers snagging Dean’s boxer hem with questioning eyes. The sharp nod and the tilt of his hips spurred him on, and he pulled, drawing the black fabric down the length of Dean’s body until they could join the pile on the floor.

“Goddamn, you _are_ the holy grail.” Castiel breathed, looking down on the hard length of Dean’s very eager dick. It curved back towards his stomach, flushed red and thick. Just as perfect as the rest of Dean.

Despite wanting to get into things Castiel had to reign himself in. He crawled onto the bed, ignoring the small sound of confusion when he settled himself next to Dean on his knees. “I’m guessing you’ve never prepped anyone before?” Another sheepish shake of the head answered that. No surprise there. ”Then watch me.” It was a little embarrassing, but he figured if Dean could lay himself bare as he had then he could as well.

Castiel moved a little higher on the bed, back facing Dean as he spread his legs a little, letting the younger man see every bare inch of skin. He reached for the lube, uncorking it to pour a generous amount into his hands. Behind him, Dean’s eyes bored holes into his skin, lighting up his flesh until Castiel began to fill in full just from the weight of the stare.

Castiel’s heart was thundering in his chest as he reached back to smooth the slick oil against his hole, massaging his fingertips against himself until he was coated and shining.  He hadn’t been this turned on from foreplay in ages, especially when Dean hadn’t even touched him yet. Dean’s eyes on him sparked electricity over his skin, making him hyper-aware of every motion, even the first entry of his index and middle finger pulled a small moan from him. He hadn’t bothered starting with one finger, not with how practiced he was.

He heard the small whimper of desire on Dean’s lips, and a hand soon found its way to his calf, smoothing against his legs and hips as he began to work his fingers in and out of himself.

“Don’t.” Castiel chastised when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Dean had started to touch himself, which wouldn’t do. He doubted a virgin’s stamina, and he had every intention of making this memorable for them both. “You can wait.” It was a partial command, partial encouragement.

Dean swallowed thickly, but his hand moved away from his straining cock. “C-can I?” His hand came to cup one of his cheeks, and Castiel pressed back into the touch with a nod.

“Here.” Castiel scissored his fingers and reached with his free hand to draw Dean’s hand to his stretched hole. He guided Dean’s index finger into him between his own fingers, the small sound rumbling from his throat swallowed up by Dean’s much louder cuss.

 Dean’s finger probed deep, feeling his slicked walls with a careful touch. ”Fuck, you’re hot inside.” He breathed in awe. He paid careful attention to how Castiel was moving his fingers, and soon he grew a little more daring. “I want to… please?”

He couldn’t deny such a sweet request. Castiel’s hand fell away, content to let Dean take over. Dean’s three fingers pushed into him, and he started to focus on the sensation of the virgin’s honest touch. “O-one more,” Castiel ordered after a few minutes. He was going to need the extra preparation to take Dean.

“Yeah?” Dean complied, pushing his pinky in to join the stretch. “God, Cas. I want to be in you so bad. You’re fucking beautiful.” The unexpected compliment when he was ass-up took Castiel by surprise, and a hot blush lit a fire from his cheeks down the back of his neck. Beautiful? He’d been called handsome or striking, but never beautiful. That was a word he would have put to Dean, but not himself. He was good-looking, he knew that, but he didn’t think he was beautiful by any stretch of the imagination.

 Castiel pushed back into Dean’s hand until he felt like Dean would pop a blood vessel if they didn’t get the show on the road soon. “O-okay. Let’s—” Castiel reached to push Dean back a little bit so he could sit up. “Like this.” He pushed a little more, guiding Dean onto his back.

He picked up the fallen foil, tearing it open with his teeth and drawing out the clear hoop between his fingers.  He looked down at Dean, stretched out on the bed and looking like he’d been the subject of blissful torture, flushed and pained. Dean’s dick had leaked a trail of interest, begging for attention. As soon as he placed a hand to Dean’s base, the virgin hissed a soft sound that tapered into a low moan, hips pushing up against his touch as Castiel guided the condom down his length.

“Good.” Castiel swallowed, climbing over Dean once more and dumping another palm full of lube onto his hand. “We’re… going to do it like this because I don’t trust a virgin not to ride my ass. You’re too big to turn you loose just yet.” Castiel rumbled down at Dean with a rosy grin, laughing quietly at the pout that returned to Dean’s lips. “Not everyone is a size-queen, Dean. I’d like being able to stand tomorrow.” He hated doing the walk of shame the next day with his ass burning the entire way home. It added an air of humiliation to the act for him. But, with Dean, he didn’t think he’d have that vague shame there tomorrow. Not with how Dean was looking at him right now like he held the key to salvation.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Dean decided, shivering hard as Castiel’s hand glided down over his rigid length to coat him in lube.

Castiel took a deep breath to steady himself as he got into position, lining Dean’s blunt tip against him and letting himself relax into the coming invasion. Dean was bigger than he usually enjoyed, but the rising anticipation in his chest was fast canceling out the trepidation he felt when faced with a cock that would leave a lasting impression on him for days. Castiel began to sink down, a long, low groan punching from his chest at the first push of Dean’s cockhead past the tight ring of his hole, locking them in place with a fullness that even with the liberal prep left him with a faint burn.

Castiel’s careful descent was slow, enough that by the time he’d sank flush with Dean’s hips the younger man had fisted the bedspread in a white-knuckled grip. “Hot?” Castiel teased with Dean’s prior description.

“Fuck… fuck, you’re amazing.” Dean panted, chewing on the corner of his lip to keep himself in check. He was trying hard not to do exactly what Castiel said he’d do if he had the chance. Every part of him wanted to buck up into Castiel’s tight slickness until he drowned in him, but he didn’t want to end up hurting his first lay. Castiel could see him fighting the base drive, and he laid quietly cooed words into the air while he scraped his nails along Dean’s chest to focus his attention elsewhere.

“Breath, baby,” Castiel instructed, the pet name falling from his lips before he could stop it. He didn’t do pet names, not unless whoever he slept with requested it. It felt intimate, too close to the ‘lover’ territory. Dean had deserved it though; he was doing so well that Castiel had wanted to make him feel special.

Castiel took a slow pace, at first rocking his hips slow to get used to the fat, hard weight of Dean sheathed in him. The sole sounds in the quiet apartment were their combined breaths, panting and groaning into the darkness with only the light streaming in from the large window, bathing them in the artificial glow of neighboring apartments and streetlights.

Dean was gripping his ass hard enough to bruise once he’d started using his thighs to pull himself up and down. Each descent became faster than the last until every plunge drew a sharp gasp from Dean below him. Castiel’s dick bobbed heavy between his legs, leaving a small and growing pool of wetness against Dean’s lower stomach every time they met flush.

Sweat clung to Castiel’s brow, sticking his wayward curls to his forehead when he tipped his head back to the ceiling to suck in steadying breaths. Every new plunge shocked his system with how wide and open he felt, sending sparks up his spine. Dean began to chant his name like a prayer, hips jerking up into him to meet with every descent. He wouldn’t last much longer, which was a blessing and a shame wrapped up all into one. Normally Castiel wouldn’t be close to coming, but he was more riled up than usual, almost embarrassingly so. He wasn’t normally a vocal lover, but Dean’s earnest encouragements and praise had whipped him up into a frenzy that had him groaning freely. Dean had no such reservations. Castiel only hoped Dean had lenient neighbors or else he was going to be getting a call from his Super in the morning.

“C-cas.  I can’t... I’m going to—“Dean whimpered, hips starting to sputter in rhythm and fingers digging into the supple flesh of his ass.

Castiel leaned back, bracing his hands on Dean’s thighs, one soft and warm, the other hard and hot. “Do it. Come for me, baby.” He encouraged, grinding his hips down against Dean and clenching around him greedily. The shift in position was all it took to send Dean over the edge, and he was coming with a sharp shout, bucking up into him hard enough to make him see stars.

Blearily, Castiel reached a hand between his legs to begin pumping at his dick, shaking and gasping into the sensation of Dean’s cock twitching in him while he milked him through the last shocks of his orgasm. After a moment another hand closed over his own, and Castiel withdrew to let Dean jerk him to completion. His peak hit him with a sharp snap, and he arched back into it, splashing Dean’s stomach and chest with his seed until he was a boneless mess barely able to keep himself upright.

He wasn’t sure when they transitioned to lay next to each other, or when they’d started lazily kissing with their arms wrapped around close, but he liked it. Cuddling was a guilty pleasure, and one he didn’t indulge in often, but Dean’s arms were strong and locked around him. He wouldn’t be able to distance himself even if he tried.

He didn’t try.

Castiel drifted, content to lay in the arms of the man that had passed out nearly the moment they’d gotten comfortable and gotten the condom off. Dean snored a little in his sleep, another unexpectedly adorable trait that Castiel would usually find annoying on anyone else. Around this time, he would usually extract himself from whoever he’d fallen into bed with, get dressed in the dark, and tiptoe his way out as carefully as he could. Never leaving a number, and hoping the men had enough tact not to chat him up again if they saw each other at the club the next weekend.

He imagined doing that to Dean. Leaving him to wake up in the morning to look around to an empty room. But maybe that’s what Dean wanted; he’d never said anything past tonight had to happen, or that he was looking for it. Maybe Dean wanted it to be one and done.

Castiel tried to draw away, but Dean’s arms locked tighter around his middle. Dean’s head buried closer to Castiel’s chest; a mumbled ‘Stay’ vibrating his skin.

He sighed softly with a small smile, fingers reaching to trail slowly through Dean’s short hair. He recalled Dean mentioning he was a pretty damn good cook.

Maybe he could stay for breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to check out more of my work, get updates, ask requests, or commissions, please check out my tumblr at : http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/
> 
> Also check out the lovely starmouse123's tumblr here: http://starmouse123.tumblr.com/ Because holy balls. Dat art doe.


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